Somewhere in the Middle
by Gandalf3213
Summary: During Harry's seventh year, Umbridge releases an Order to round up all half-breeds...including twins. Now Fred and George are on the run with Lee, who's trying to set up his radio station. The question is, will they be alive when the war finally breaks?
1. Only Middles

_You're searching...  
For things that don't exist; I mean beginnings.  
Ends and beginnings - there are no such things.  
There are only middles. **Robert Frost**_

**_***_**

**By the ORDER of the MUGGLE-BORN REGISTRATION COMMISSION:**

**All half-breeds (part- or full-blooded mer-people, giants, vampires, warlocks, banshees) and unnatural beings (identical twins, werewolves) MUST present themselves for questioning by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Creatures. Failure to comply before 25 November will result in imprisonment or death.**

Umbridge's first major order since the Educational Decrees in Hogwarts was issued on the day Lee's family was murdered.

He was working with the twins now, trying at night to set up a radio station that he was sure would never get off the ground in the present political environment, which was Lee's way of saying he had been taken off the air twice since trying to get a time slot and sent not-so-subtle messages that any further involvement would lead to dire consequences.

"I can't do it here." Lee said one night, lifting a package to its place on a high shelf. George was on his back on the floor, one arm thrown over his head. Lee wondered, vaguely, if he was aware he was covering the hole that used to be his ear. Fred came over and kicked him until they were both lying flat with arms thrown over their heads. Identical to the last freckle.

"Can't do what here?" George demanded sleepily, yawning. Fred leaned over and poked the spot where his ear used to be, causing George to bolt upright and lay directly across his brother, affectively pinning him to the ground.

"I can't do my radio station." Lee had acquired patience over many years of dealing with the twins. Fred and George had the attention spans of goldfish when it came to things they didn't deem worthy, but he knew anything he had to say would be heard, recorded, listened to when they had a few seconds away from scheming their next plan.

It took several minutes of wrestling before Fred rolled over onto his stomach, face serious. "Why not? And don't say you're worried about getting us in trouble. We're blood-traitors, mate, we're in trouble as it is."

Lee literally growled in frustration and threw himself into a nearby chair, staring morosely at the pile of Pygmy Puffs. "I'm trying to save you two from even more trouble. You're already harboring a Mudblood, which I believe is life sentence in Azkaban at the moment."

"Hey!" Both Weasleys said at the same time, picking themselves up with identical looks of outrage plastered across their faces. "Don't call yourself a Mudblood!" Fred yelled at the same time that George said, in a voice more rational than Fred's "You don't even know if you _are_ a Mudblood."

"It doesn't matter, Fred." Lee said, "Really, it doesn't. I don't care about the name anymore – it doesn't mean anything to me, and George," He flicked his gaze to the other boy. "There's a good chance I am a Mudblood. My mum remarried and she refuses to tell me who my biological father is. No one else in my family is a wizard…" Lee shrugged. "It doesn't hurt me any, but I won't let it endanger you two."

"Come off it, Lee." When the twins were serious, someone who'd known them for a while, like their brothers, like Lee, could tell my their voices, which dropped in volume and pitch and were gentler, smoother, "We're among the most-wanted, too --"

"Don't you think the Ministry knows –"

"That our family actually believes Harry and Dumbledore –"

"Even if they are both old bats?"

"See?" This was Fred. It had taken Lee all of two minutes to learn how to tell the twins apart (really, how could you mix them up? George was rational, quieter, good with money. Fred was…not) and he'd always been a little proud to be able to pull off a feat that, as far as he could tell, only the other Weasley brothers (certainly not their parents) and Harry could perform.

But Fred continued, "We're in this together, Lee. That radio station in important. Someone needs to get out accurate information --"

"Without scaring half the country away." George continued, then glanced at the clocks that hung over the door. One told time – it was very late – and the other was a replica of the Weasley family clock at the Burrow. Every one of the hands pointed at 'mortal peril'.

Lee followed the man's gaze and stood up, thinking of home, where his mother and brother were waiting. He turned to the twins and looked at the clock again.

"No signs of Ron, then?" He knew that Fred and George had assumed the duty of haphazardly caring for Ron, in their own way. He knew that they'd somehow helped him avoid the now-stringent Truancy laws, enabling him to go with Harry.

Fred started at the mention of his younger brother's name, but then said, in a voice as hollow as Lee could remember, "Not since the thing at the Ministry, and that was ages ago."

"At least Harry's not dead." George muttered, "We'd know if that happened. There's always hope. Those three are fighters."

"Yeah." They were silent for a moment, and Lee was remembering the other times he'd seen his friends like this, scared for their family but helpless to do much more than try to help with a few laughs. Like when Ginny had been taken down into the Chamber of Secrets, or all the times Ron had been injured by helping Harry. Like when they'd realized one of their products had helped to hurt their oldest brother, who they so admired.

Or…Lee shuddered from either the memory or the cold breeze coming through the door. November was announcing herself early, it seemed…when Lee had run into the shop one day in July, summoned by a distressed Fred. He'd walked in on a harassed-looking, one-eared George. "Anyone want to explain to me what happened?" But he was staring at Fred. Lee thought later that he might have been the only one who'd noticed the expression of intense vulnerability spread so plainly across Fred's features. The only person other than George, who knew his brother so well they were sometimes mistaken to be, bizarrely, the same person.

"Aren't you heading home, Lee? We'll finish up here." George flashed Lee a knowing smile, which Lee did his best to return before heading out the door. Most nights he stayed with the twins in their flat above the shop, because it was convenient, because he didn't want to impose on his mother and step-father, who often took in wayward people for nights or weeks on end.

His mother, the saint. Lee couldn't begin to count the number of nights he'd been woken up by his mother, asking him if he couldn't set up the cots in the basement, there were some people who needed their help.

When Lee did venture home, usually on Saturday nights, he'd stay in his old room, which he now shared with Julian. Julian had been born during Lee's second year of Hogwarts and though the two were, technically, only half-brothers and only saw each other during breaks, Lee was very fond of the young boy, who showed absolutely no signs of magic but was still extremely interested in all things Hogwarts, especially the joke shop.

"Yeah, I'm going home." He stood up, began heading to the back of the shop where he had left the radio he would probably never have reason to use again. It sat next to a box of older jokes, half-broken. "Mind if I take these with me? Julian will get a kick out of them."

"Go ahead." The twins said in unison. Lee performed a simple spell to make the boxes feather-light before meeting the brothers back out in the main show room. Both Weasleys had their wands out (Lee had never seen wands as identical or as pure white as Fred and George's) and were in the process of locking up the shop.

"Meet us at the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow?" George asked. Lee had his back to the door, pressing it open with his weight. He nodded, smiled, waved once, and vanished twenty meters from the front door of Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

Diagon Alley was dark, quiet, at one o' clock in the morning. When Lee Apparated onto the lawn of his old, secluded house, he was bombarded by the noise, by the sights and smells of anarchy in progress.

*******

**Since we started on Fanfiction, we've wanted to write a story that was solely and completely about the twins. This idea crept up on us in the usual way... "What if?" What if Umbridge held a grudge against the twins? What if she designed an Order just for them? What if Lee got caught in the middle?**

**Coming off our last story, we're on a kind of high, so reviews and critiques would be appreciated, for nothing other than to bring us down to Earth.**


	2. Witching Hour

_You're looking at Act One, Scene One, of a nightmare, one not restricted to witching hours or dark, rain swept nights. **Twilight Zone**_

_.***._

He immediately doubled back, hiding himself in the forest. In his arms, one of the jokes, a teddy bear that moved on its own, protested at the movement. Lee performed a quick _muffliato_ around himself, unable to do more than that as he stared at the Dark Mark grinning at him from above his childhood home.

Shouts of _Mobilicorpus_ and three bodies were hovering in the sky. Lee groped around the box of jokes until he found an old telescope, blue, old, one that he had helped the twins develop in their seventh year of Hogwarts, during the reign of Umbridge. It worked rather like a pair of Omnioculors, though in addition to being able to zoom in on sights, the user could also hear what was going on.

He focused the pocket telescope on the hovering bodies. A second after he registered his mother, his step-father, and his younger brother, either dead or dying, a shout of _Incendio_ came up from the gang of Death Eaters, and Lee's house was on fire.

"No!" He caught himself just in time to force the cry to become a whisper. Furious with himself – why could he not will his body into action? Despite the fact that there were more than a half-dozen Death Eaters on his lawn, he knew he should be charging, fighting, anything to help his small family. Risking life and limb was something that Lee was unusally capable of doing: years with the twins had all but shattered his inborn need for self-preservation.

But further examination in the telescope revealed that any effort would be for naught. His mother's throat was ripped open and her head hung in a terrible parody of Nearly Headless Nick. His step-father was stripped of his shirt and a giant hole gaped in the place where his stomach should be. And Julian…

Lee forced his gaze away from the sight of his little brother's mutilated body. Tears couldn't even begin to form in his eyes. Rage came before grief, but even in his anger he was still Lee, still the rational part of the trio that had terrorized Hogwarts for seven years. And the words coming through the telescope spoke of even more dire doings tonight.

Stumbling in his stupor, Lee just managed to scoop up his parcels before Disapperating to a house he'd only been to once before.

Shell Cottage was eerily quiet after the chaos at the Jordan home. Lee forced his legs to move, sluggishly pulling himself up the front steps, praying that Bill would be home, that he would know the proper people to contact. "Bill!" He rapped on the door, realizing as he did that the eldest Weasley would be wary of anyone who disturbed the early morning peace. "Bill Weasley! It's Lee Jordan! There's been an attack – Death Eaters!" He was fairly certain that Death Eaters wasn't taboo, though who really knew anymore? In the past months, the various edicts and orders issued by the Ministry were too many to remember through the haze of blinding, painful grief.

A light flicked on upstairs, then another in the hallway on the other side of the door. "Please…" Lee was sure that no Death Eater, even one in disguise, would ever say 'please', and perhaps that, if nothing else, would lend credit to his story.

The door opened and a wand was pointed at his face. Lee had the sudden urge to put his hands up, even if it would send the radio and box of tricks crashing to the ground. "What's going on?" Bill growled, his scarred visage looking particularly fearsome in the moonlight. For a horrible, strange moment, Lee feared he would be killed by his best friends' oldest brother. After all, why would Bill remember the twins' friend in the wee hours of the morning? But a sudden look of comprehension flittered across Bill's gouged face and the wand lowered, if only slightly.

When Lee could breathe again, the first strangled words were, "Death Eaters." He felt embarrassed and betrayed that now was the time tears chose to invade. "Swarmed my house…my family's dead, but…" He thought, suddenly of some words the telescope had picked up, the words that had sent him flying to the house of Bill Weasley.

"There's a new order out – put the wand down, Bill, please, I can't think straight – a new order to round up…I don't know, they said half-breeds, which made me remember Umbridge." He was rambling now, because of the adrenaline rush, because the expression on Bill's face was growing more wary by the minute, because Fleur had appeared over her husband's shoulder.

"Why were they going after your family, then?" Bill's voice was still harsh, still suspicious, but there was something else behind the words. Bill was remembering that Lee Jordan was the twins' best friend, was remembering the few facts he'd picked up on the boy over the years. "Aren't they muggles?"

"Et ez a new sport, no?' Fleur's voice was shaking with outrage and, perhaps, with fear. "Zat dey torture dee muggles for pleasure?"

"Yeah." Lee said quickly. "I don't think the two are related – I certainly don't think the Death Eaters knew it was my family, that I'm a wizard. They were just saying something about this order, casually…as they burned my house down." Lee's hands shook and Bill steadied the packages in his arms. Lee smiled tightly at him, a thanks, for the trust, for the support.

"I just…you might want to improve your defenses around here. Maybe lie low for a little while." If Bill thought it odd that he was the first person Lee had thought of when hearing of his new law, he didn't show it.

"Thank you." Bill murmured, his face finally growing soft. "I'll make sure to get the word out. You probably just saved a lot of lives."

"Yeah." Just not the ones that mattered, not his mother, the saint. Not his step-father, who'd always treated him as his own son. Not little Julian.

"Do you 'ave a safe place to stay?" Fleur asked kindly. Lee just managed to meet her eyes, forced a nod. Fleur pushed past her husband and kissed Lee once on each cheek. "You saved ze life of my 'usband and my friends. I cannot zank you enough." Beside her, Bill nodded.

Lee felt as if he was crawling through the world in slow motion, like he had the time one of the Weasley products had caused acute hemophilia and he'd lost two pints of blood through a paper cut on his finger. "Just make sure everyone hears about this, okay?" He backed away from the house, trusting Bill to get the word out to all the people who were important. Hopefully, no one would be hurt by this new order. He might have just made it in time.

When he got to the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, though, he realized just how wrong he was. He realized that two people had been hurt already.

**This is probably the shortest chapter we've written in a while, but it's a necessary transition. The next chapter should be up soon. Really soon. That's when we get to the good part.**

**Review?**


	3. Darkness of Despair

_"When you find yourself lost in the darkness of despair, remember that it is only on the blackest night that you see the stars, and those stars lead you back home." **One Tree Hill**_

_.***._

The sign was posted on the door that had been whole when Lee left just a half-hour earlier. Not it was cracked, broken, sporting only the notice:

**By the ORDER of the MUGGLE-BORN REGISTRATION COMMISSION:**

**All half-breeds (part- or full-blooded mer-people, giants, vampires, warlocks, banshees) and unnatural beings (identical twins, werewolves) MUST present themselves for questioning by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Creatures. Failure to comply before 25 November will result in imprisonment or death.**

Lee read it through once, quickly, knowing instantly that this was what the Death Eaters had been talking about at his house. He touched the door, about to go in, when two words on the notice caught his eye…_identical twins_.

"Umbridge." Lee murmured, because this had the former DADA teacher written all over it. She'd always hated the twins – had taken the archaic line that they were unnatural because they'd been born identical. Even so, she didn't seem to hate the Patels, also identical, quite as much.

Lee's brain went a thousand miles a minute. The only reason twins were included on the sign (and, really, if you read it through enough, the twins part stood out like a sore thumb) was because of Fred and George, who were probably the loudest people on the side of the resistance. As Weasleys, they were blood traitors. And they were friends of Harry, which was now punishable by death. And they weren't being quiet about either one.

"No reason to hide." George had said one day, not long after his ear had been blown off by their former potions master. "Remember Hagrid, what he always used to say at meetings? 'What's comin' will come.' We're not going to stop that."

But even back then, Lee had wished the twins would be a little more subtle about their dislike of the current Ministry. But subtle wasn't in the Weasley's nature.

Lee shouldered the door open, the cracked and broken glass only a taste of what he would find. The shop, somewhat orderly and very clean just an hour ago, was now in shambles. Lee stared at it for a moment, seeing months, years, really, of work laid out before him on the floor.

But worse, a thousand times worse, was the _blood_. "Fred?" He called out, not bothering to be quiet, not bothering to think that, maybe, Death Eaters could still be lurking. He needed to find his best friends. Now. "George?"

A stirring in the back, and Lee let out a sigh of relief. Death Eaters had surely been by. It would have been easy, so easy, for them to kill the twins, or to throw them in Azkaban or wherever it was they were putting all the so-called traitors these days.

"Lee?" This was George, and for the first time in years, the twenty-year-old sounded scared. "Lee, is that you?"

"This is crazy. _Lumos_." The wand light revealed more of the shop, more destruction than Lee would have thought possible in the space of a half-hour. And crumpled on the floor was Fred, with a terrified-looking George bent over him.

"George!" Lee skidded to a stop in front of his friend, feeling blood pool around his sneakers. "George, where are you hurt?" But George was too worried about Fred to flip over and let Lee mend his curse-cuts. "How?"

"_Sectumsempra_." George spit out. "And Fred was _Cruicio_'d. He hasn't woken up yet."

"Where's your wand?" It seemed to have just occurred to George that he was not longer holding his wand and he looked around in a vague, bewildered way, loosing blood by the pint.

Lee was thankful, so thankful, that he'd paid more attention in Charms than either of the Weasleys. He took a deep, steadying breath, tried to push the thoughts of his dead family to the side. Here was one family he could save… "_Tergio_." He began, siphoning the blood off his friend's face.

"_Vulnera Senentur_." He'd never performed this spell, not on a person, but he'd studied the basic theory. He knew he had to be very, very calm. He knew he had to will the wound to heal.

George gasped and groaned and shook as his skin knitted itself back together, and when it was all over his face was soaked in sweat. "Are you okay?" Lee asked tersely, pushing the wand into George's hand. The wounds were not completely healed, and blood leaked out sluggishly. He needed potions, and the twins needed a proper doctor.

He pushed the wand into George's hand. "This is Fred's." George murmured a moment later, and Lee groaned quietly. George quickly murmured, "_Accio, wand!" _Most wands were made so it would be impossible to summon them, but the twins were so prone to sudden accidents and fits of brilliance that they'd charmed theirs to be retrievable by the other's wand.

"What about Fred?" George's voice trembled precariously, and Lee was truly terrified that he would see a Weasley twin cry for the first time.

"I can't help a _Crucio_." Fred had no blood on him, but one of his arms was stuck out at a weird angle. "Any idea how to mend bones?"

"I've been terrified since Lockheart did Harry's in fourth year." George said, "I only know _ferula._" This last bit was accompanied by a short flick, and bandages erupted from George's wand tip, wrapping themselves around Fred's broken arm.

Again, Lee wanted to ask how, and why, but kept his mouth closed. "We need to get out of here. It's not safe." George stared at him with a _no duh_ look plastered across his worried face.

"But Fred…"

"We have to Apparate, George, it's the only way." Lee stood up, began summoning everything he could think of. A bottle of _dittany_ always kept near to the twins, just in case, and he also magicked in extra clothes, a blanket, all the food in the apartment.

George made a quick round through the shop (he was loathe to leave his twin's side, but what choice did he have, really? Weasleys were not ones to sit and mope when action could be taken), taking products off the remaining shelves at random and hurling them, along with the rest of the supplies, into the boxes Lee had been carrying, one for the radio, one for his now-dead brother.

A last spell, and the pile was minimized, compacted and set in the box. "Grab Fred's arm." Lee said, picking up the red-head's other arm. Together, he and George dragged the man the proper distance away from the shop.

"Where to?" George asked, bewildered and confused and hurting from the curses fired upon him and his shop.

As before, Lee could only think of one place. He spun on the spot, careful to grip Fred as tight as he could, and disappeared into the night.

"No…" George's voice was bare a whisper and Lee turned just in time to see him collapse to the ground, a huge chunk of flesh scooped away from his shoulder. What a time for splinching.

Wizarding alarms made no noise, but Lee was sure they'd tripped some when Bill came outside, his wand held high, face dangerous. He lowered it when he saw Lee. "What's happened?"

Lee didn't know where to start. The shop was destroyed, the twins were hurt, that stupid order was out, and somebody had probably figured out that he'd been at his old house. "Remember that Order I mentioned?"

"Hard to forget." Bill stepped further out into the moonlight, throwing his scars into sharp relief. "I just managed to tip off Lupin and Tonks before they were raided. It's an excuse for You-Know-Who to get as many magical creatures on his side as he can, and throw the rest of us in jail. Wha -"

He'd just caught sight of Fred and George, slumped on the ground. George's breathing was harsh and ragged. Fred hadn't moved. "Twins are part of the Order." Lee said bitterly. "It's Umbridge's excuse to bring Fred and George in…she can't legally get them any other way."

"What happened?" Bill dropped to his knees beside George, pulled out his wand, started mending the wound in his brother's shoulder. Lee tossed him the bottle of _dittany_.

"George just splinched. Before that, there was _sectumsempra…_"

"Snape?"

"Maybe. He has some broken ribs, I think, and maybe internal bleeding. I don't know. I don't know how to check." Whatever adrenaline rush Lee had felt at the sight of his house and his best friends had died. Now he just felt very, very tired, and very, very scared.

"It's okay. You did good." Bill turned toward the house, sent a white something out of his wand. "What about Fred?"

"George said it was…_Crucio_. He hasn't woken up yet." Lee was suddenly struck by a horrible thought. He remembered seventh year, after a particularly exciting DA meeting. He and the twins had escorted Neville, proudly sporting more than a few bumps and bruises, up to the Hospital Wing. On the way, he'd confided the truth about his parents. _Cruicio_'d, and they were never the same."

"Damn them." Bill's voice was so hard and so low that Lee found himself cringing away from the older man and his wrath. "Why can't they just let us be? It's not like the twins were manufacturing an army in their basement."

This was technically true. What the twins were building in their basement was not an army, but it was weapons and uniforms that would give the wearer a distinct advantage. Somehow, Lee thought that Bill would not appreciate this information.

"George is bleeding again." Lee pointed out weakly, but even as he said it he found himself sinking to the ground, the grief over his family, the loss of adrenaline after such a long hour, such a long day, finally catching up with him. He passed out to the sound of waves breaking against the cliffs.

When he came to it was in front of the fire inside of Shell Cottage. A blanket was thrown over him, colorful and warm. He found himself blinking sleepily into a tea cup. "Drink up." Bill said, "Don't worry, you were only out for about an hour, though by the looks of it you could have used a lot more sleep."

Lee brought the cup up to his lips before he jerked upright, head twitching. "Fred? George? Are they going to be alright?"

Bill smiled, just a little, "It seems we are in your debt for a lot of things tonight, Lee. Fleur knows a potion that would help assuage the affects of a _crucio_, though Fred…he still hasn't woken up yet. I had to put a sleeping spell on George. He was frantic." Bill ran a hand through his hair, looking drawn, haggard, "He seems to be a magnet for _sectumsempra_, and for the life of me I can't stop the bleeding. I have some blood-replenishing potions around. You can take them with you."

"Where?" Lee asked, and Bill looked pained.

"I'm sorry." He said, "So sorry, but the Ministry will be coming after me, too. Seems like they're trying to track down as many Weasleys as they can. I got a Patronus out to everyone who matters, and they're lying low for a little while, but apparently the Death Eaters weren't finished with Fred and George. There's posters for them everywhere."

"So you're kicking them out?" Lee was aghast, and his hand trembled on the cup. "They're your brothers!"

"I know!" Bill said angrily, then got a hold of himself, "I know, but George said that the Death Eaters did some spell…put a Trace on them."

"You can't Trace anyone who's of age." Lee said automatically. This was Wizarding Law, so sacred he thought even the Death Eaters wouldn't think of breaking it. "It's impossible."

"Apparently not." Bill said. "They can't stay anywhere too long, not without risking everyone around them." He studied Lee carefully. "They're my brothers, Lee, I'd do anything for them, but I can't endanger Fleur's life… or the life of my child." He stared at Lee, daring him to tell Bill he was wrong.

But Lee found himself nodding, then looking around the small, cozy room. "Did you see those boxes we came in with? If you could lend us a few more supplies, we'll clear out before the Ministry has a chance to run their traces."

"Woah," Bill pushed Lee back down. "You need to sleep before you fall over. I'll make sure you guys are set for a while, okay? I have an old tent you can use, too, just in case you can't find a place to stay. It's not big, but it's warm." Both men looked up when they heard a cry from down the hall.

"George?" Lee asked, already getting up. Bill was already down the hall, his words coming out in a rush.

"We can't heal those cuts…but he probably woke up and is worried about Fred." Worried being the understatement. He remembered when the twins were little, convinced that their burgeoning magic would let them fly. They jumped off the roof of the Burrow, and their innate magic did save them from death, but didn't help Fred escape a broken arm, of George escape a punctured lung. For the rest of the week, the house was grim as it hadn't been before or since, the twin hearts of the family broken along with their bones.

Fleur had done a good job of patching Fred and George up, though both looked too pale, too…breakable, an adjective Lee never thought would apply to any of the hardy, surviving clan. "Fred's waking up." Fleur warned, flowing from her chair to her husband in such a fluid movement that Lee wasn't entirely sure it had actually happened.

George held Fred's hand in a death grip, his expression so openly concerned Lee looked away for a moment, feeling as if he was intruding on a privet moment. "He's waking up…"

"…Yeah." Lee wished he could feel better about this, but his stomach was tied in tight, hot coils. The anticipation, the nervousness of waiting for Fred to wake up was physically hurting him, along with the frustration of not being able to help his best friends get through this.

_Oh please_, he didn't know who he was begging, didn't know if he even understood what he was saying at that point_, please, they've done nothing wrong. Let Fred be alright_.

This was unfair, so unfair. Werewolves and banshees and vampires and even giants Lee could understand keeping track of, rounding up. He could imagine You-Know-Who trying to turn them to his own side. But twins?

It had to be Umbridge, still upset at the twins for pulling one over on her, with the swamp, with the escape. They couldn't control their birth though, and if they really did have a Trace planted on them there was only one choice. To run. To hide. To hope that there would be an end to this Ministry, and soon.

A thought ran across the surface of his mind, and as soon as lee registered it, he wished he hadn't. _I don't have to go with them_. It was a completely selfish thought. He could rent a flat, maybe even continue living above the joke shop. He could get a job and not have to camp and hide and be afraid for the next months or years of his life.

But that was a thought he would leave for later.

"Fred?" George's voice was trembling, from fatigue, from blood loss and shock and nervousness that his favorite brother, his only twin, might never wake up. "Fred, c'mon bro, you're stronger than this."

"Do you know how long he was _Crucio'_d?" Lee asked Fleur. The half-Veela nodded, looking pale and scared but resolute. Here, Lee could see the resemblance between this beautiful woman and the lovely girl who'd participated in the TwiWizard tournament.

"George said it was four minutes, maybe five." Both Lee and Fleur looked at Bill. As an Order member, a curse-breaker, and the oldest in the room by quite a few years, he was the resident expert on the Unforgivables.

Bill sighed, ran a hand over his scarred face. "It depends on Fred. Either he recovers from this or he doesn't. Four or five minutes…he could go either way."

George was still kneeling over Fred, blood dripping sluggishly from the _Sectumsempra_ cuts, which would ultimately take weeks and many bandages to heal. "Fred…c'mon, we need to get out of Bill's hair before the Death Eaters think to run our Traces."

"…too long anyway." Fred gasped, his face white and shining with sweat. He stared at George intently, eyes unable to focus on anything for long. "Bill's hair…too long anyway." He said this in a series of pants that made everyone in the room breathe out a collective sigh of relief.

"Yeah, it is." George rocked back on his ankles, face flooding with color.

"How do you feel, Fred?" Bill asked after asking Fleur to retrieve a few potions from the back hall.

"Snackboxes." Fred said without opening his eyes, face screwed up in pain. Bill just stared while Lee and George laughed so heartily it was bordering on hysterical.

The first time they'd experimented with Snackboxes, it was Fred who'd lost the coin toss. Nosebleed Nougat was their earliest product…they'd been sixth years, sure of their magic, sure that nothing could go seriously wrong. Ten minutes later, they were racing up to the Hospital Wing, Fred floating in front thanks to a _Wingardium Leviosa_. He'd eaten the candy and his nose had bled, along with his ears, his eyes, the space under his fingernails. After staring at Lee and George in horror for one terrible second, Fred collapsed to the ground, deep in the throes of a _grand mal_ seizure.

So Snackboxes was probably an accurate description of the pain Fred was in.

"Bill!" Fleur's voice floated from down the hall. "Zere are people on ze lawn!" She thrust the potions into her husband's hand, drawing her wand from within her night robe. "I vill see vhat zey vant." She left before Bill could call her back.

"We need to hurry." Bill thrust a backpack into George's arms, doing a quick spell to make it feather-light, and a larger duffel into Lee's. "All the stuff from the cardboard boxes you came with is in there, along with plenty of food, some potions, and our tent. I would put in some money, but I don't have any of the muggle stuff and you should stay away from Wizard homes anyway."

"I have some muggle money." Lee said quickly. He always kept some on him now that they were out of school. Supplies for the shop were sometimes easier to find at muggle stores.

"I'm sorry I can't do more." Bill said, lifting Fred into his arms like a baby. "But if you stay on the move you should be okay." He swallowed hard, steeling himself for the rest of his instructions. "Don't try to contact the family, it'll be too dangerous. We'll figure this all out, somehow."

"What about you, Bill?" George was stumbling along in the back, paining from the injuries, but his voice was surprisingly smooth, if a little tinged with fear. "That part about werewolves…"

"I'll be fine. I'm not actually a werewolf. Someone will see reason." Bill took a breath, then muttered, quieter, so that Fleur, shouting in the front of the house, wouldn't possibly hear. "A bloke I know taught me how to _Obliviate_ pretty well. It'll hold them at bay for a while, I hope."

Bill gently lowered an unconscious Fred to the floor. "Be careful not to let him splinch. Find a secluded place and set up as many defense charms as you know." He drew George into a quick hug and touched Fred's face again, saying his goodbyes. Lee felt a lump rise to his throat when he realized this could be the last time he'd see the Wizarding World for a while.

"We'll make it work." Lee said, his voice stronger than he felt. "And we'll be there when the battle starts."

Bill turned to him. "I'm sorry about your family, Lee. You've saved a lot of mine tonight." He held out his hand, and when Lee put his own into it Bill wrapped him in an impromptu hug. "Thank you."

The door burst open in a flash of light just as the three Apparated, and Bill's little cottage by the sea disappeared.

**So now they're on their own. How much trouble can Fred, George, and Lee get into in a little less than a year?**

**Please, please review.**


	4. The Way Of Ideas

_The idea hovered and shivered delicately, like a soap bubble, and she dared not even look at it directly in case it burst. But she was familiar with the way of ideas, and she let it shimmer, looking away, thinking about something else. **Philip Pullman**_

_.***._

Lee stumbled out of an Apparition for the first time since he took his test. He felt sick to his stomach and exhausted and frustrated and concerned and helpless. He felt like he needed a stiff drink. "George, are you okay?" George nodded, glancing at his chest where the _sectumsempra_ was now bleeding profusely. Lee opened the duffel bag to find an empty space.

"Bill always was good with expanding charms." George said, leaning against a tree trunk as he watched Lee. "Best just summon whatever you want."

"Where are we?" Lee asked, glancing around at the beautiful forest they were going to be camping in.

George shrugged. "Dunno. I was just thinking _forest_. It wasn't very specific. I'm surprised we got anywhere at all, actually."

"Dean…" Fred murmured from the ground, his face pressed into the hard Earth. From the way he was slumped, pale and shivering, it seemed he wouldn't be moving from that position for a while.

"Who?" George knelt down so he and Fred were on the same level. "Dean? Thomas?"

"Forest of Dean." Fred said, his eyes rolling back into his head without his needing to even move them.

"Ah." Lee put his head in his hands for a second and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Right." He looked up, groped for his wand. "_Accio dittany_." He passed the small bottle to George, who used it on his wounds before tipping some into Fred's mouth.

"Can't hurt."

"I guess." Lee summoned the tent, some food. He put up as many protective wards as he could remember. "At least we'll know they're coming." Lee managed to raise his eyes to George. "You and Fred should go over them later…you're better at wards than I am."

"It'll be fine, Lee, I'm sure." This was said quickly, to get it out of the way. "Lee, what happened? Do you need to sit down? Eat? You should get some sleep – I guess we'll be sleeping most of the day." George gestured vaguely to the impending sunrise.

"What? Oh, no, you two are the ones who are hurt." Lee said, standing. Just as he got to his feet, though, the ground wobbled beneath him. "Damn." He just managed to murmur before he fell to the ground.

When he woke, it was Fred who was sitting next to him, looking pale and drawn and tired but very much lucid. "Hey, mate." Lee's voice came out thick with sleep and something like tears, which had been dripping, unknowingly, down his face while he slept. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

Fred's movements were uncharacteristically slow, and maybe only George and Lee could sense exactly how much pain it took to accomplish even the little things, but he was still Fred, albeit with a little more..something…in his eyes. "I should be saying that to you, Lee. You had George worried."

"Just tired." Lee stretched a little, eyes quickly taking in the tent, his bed, another two beds across from him, one with a prone George flopped across it, fully clothed. "You two got to sleep for a few hours."

"Yeah." Fred shook his head as Lee made to push himself to his elbows. "Don't get up. There's some tea on the stove…" but he made no move to get it, just kept looking at Lee.

"What happened?" They both said this at the same time. Fred allowed a small smile, but spoke over his friend. "Really, Lee? Why'd you even come back to the shop?"

And so Lee had to tell him…everything. About his house, and Julian, and his mom and step-dad, all hovering in the air, quite dead. About the Death Eaters and the Order he'd overheard. He told Fred about going to Bill – "He was just the first person I thought of. Weird, right?" – and then going back to the shop, because he literally had nowhere else to go.

"If I'd known the Order had included twins, I would have gone to you guys first – obviously this is all Umbridge. It's only you two she's after. I could have stopped this -" he gestured to Fred, who was shaking slightly, to the sleeping George, whose blood was slowly turning the sheets under him red, despite many spells and applications of _dittany_.

Very few people outside the Weasleys and Lee had ever seen a concerned Fred, a comforting Fred. The Weasley twins were happy, intelligent, scheming, aloof people. Hard to read. But at that moment Fred looked so grateful Lee felt his cheeks go positively pink. "Lee…God, do you know that you probably saved George's life? And mine? And Bill's and Lupin's and anyone else in the Order with questionable characteristics? When they would have found out by morning, it would have been too late." Fred shook his head, "And after your family died? You were amazing."

And for the first time since everything had happened, Lee let himself dip his head into his hands and cry, big shuddering sobs that made his whole body shake. They were on the run. His family was dead. He was with the twins, who were going to be sent to Azkaban or worse if they were found. His family was dead. If he was found, _he'd _be thrown in Azkaban because he couldn't prove he wasn't a Mudblood.

His family was dead.

"What's going to happen to us?" Lee asked the quiet when he finally stopped crying. "What are we going to do?"

Fred shrugged, looking shell-shocked and scared as he nursed a cup of tea between his long fingers. "Dunno. Keep on the run, I guess. Try to get in contact with Bill…he'll keep us updated on the Order…"

"Is he alright? The Death Eaters didn't get to him?" The last thing Lee remembered, really remembered, about Shell Cottage was the door being blasted open with Rudolphus silhouetted in the door.

"George said Bill sent us a Patronus this morning, while both of us were out. They're safe, but stuck, basically. Bill's good at charms, he'll keep them out of the house. Anyway, it's Lupin they really wanted, and once they realized he wasn't there almost all of them left."

Lee pushed himself off the bed, which gave off such a loud creak it woke George, who shot upright, scrambling for his wand before he even opened his eyes. "What's going on? Fred?" His reaction would have been laughable if it wasn't so heartbreaking.

"It's fine, George." Fred looked at his twin sadly. "Let's try to get you cleaned up again, okay? And get some food in you. You need it." George was swaying dangerously, shirt drenched with new blood.

"I hate getting _Sectumsempra_'d," George grumbled as Fred helped him out of his shirt. Lee brought George some tea and a roll of gauze from their store of supplies.

"The good news is that we have enough food to last us about two years." Lee started taking stuff out of the magically expanded bags, and every time he reached in there was more food, which he stored in the tent's cabinets, placing the same charm on them to make them enlarge. "The bad news is…well, we might not see civilization for a while."

"It all depends on Harry now." George said between bites of his roll, "That's a mite terrifying, isn't it?"

"Only because you know him." Fred assured, muttering a range of spells in the direction of George's cuts, "Loads of people think he's brilliant."

"Loads of people haven't seen him fall off his broom fifty feet in the air." George said, but he said it fondly, as if he were talking about Ron, "I hope they're okay."

"About as good as we are." Lee reached into the bag and this time came out with the radio. He looked at it appraisingly before turning to the twins, a smile stretching across his face.

"Oh no," The twins said in unison, recognizing the I-Have-A-Plan face the three had seen on each other too often.

But Lee was too excited to notice their reaction, "This is perfect!" He exclaimed.

"I beg to differ," George cut in as Fred pressed a particularly sore spot. He yelped and flicked his brother's hand away.

"I can set up the radio station from here! We're on the run anyway, what's one more felony going to do?"

"I thought you couldn't get on the air…" Fred said, but Lee could tell he was interested.

"I couldn't get on the legal air." Lee corrected, "But if we're going to keep on the move…I could just hook up to…yeah…" He realized that he was drifting off but didn't bother to explain the inner workings of the British airways to Fred and George, who could care less.

"Are you guys okay with that?" Lee asked, because they were the ones in deeper trouble than he. Lee was just a Mudblood, they were wanted for God knows what. "I mean, obviously we can't do it all the time, but we'll be able to get whatever information we have out there on the radio, as opposed to the bull the Ministry's been feeding everyone."

"We could probably get in touch with Bill and Kingsley – stop moving, George, do you want to bleed out in the middle of the woods?...Honestly – they'll help with the information stuff."

"Lupin, too. He's underground. Probably has a lot of secrets under that old cloak." George let out a small sigh as the wounds closed, only to moan in pain and frustration as they re-opened with renewed vigor.

"It's going to be dangerous." Lee warned, "It'll be just another way to track us. Hey!" He remembered something from the night before. "You said something about Traces? How in the world did you guys manage to get Traces put on you?"

"No idea, it was that bloke –"

"Dawlish, the thick one -"

"Well, obviously he's bright enough if he can put Traces on us."

"Doesn't stop him from being thick – for Merlin's sake, George!' Fred yelled as George sank to the floor, blood still pouring out his side.

"How'd you stop this before?" Fred snapped at Lee, who was flipping feverishly through the books he'd managed to throw into the boxes before they left the shop. When he got to _Standard Book of Spells, Year 7_, he flipped to the end.

"_Vulnera Senentur." _He'd been pronouncing it wrong back at the Weasley shop. It was a miracle George hadn't been killed by his shoddy spell work. The cuts healed themselves but now George was almost as pale as Fred, who hadn't regained much color since being _Crucio_'d.

"Thanks." George managed to say, before passing out on the floor. Lee pushed him into the nearest bed while Fred found the Blood Replenishing Potion and tipped it into his twin's mouth. Fred was shaking, too.

"Are you alright, Fred?"

"Not really, no. You?"

"Not really." Lee stared at the radio, abandoned on the floor. "I think we should do the radio program. I think we should move every night and do the radio from wherever we happen to be."

"Sounds good to me," Fred sounded exhausted, but he still managed the barest trace of a smile, "Maybe we'll run into Harry. You can get an exclusive interview."

Lee laughed as he stood up. "Eat something, both of you. We should be out of here by twilight."

**We personally live by Lee's pholosophy - if you're already in trouble, you mine as well be in trouble for something really interesting.**

**Please, please review.**


	5. Secrets on Your Skin

_The Giant rested back in his chair. "You've some secrets left," he said, "I can smell them on your skin." **Brian Patten**_

They spent the next week traveling to places only vaguely remembered. A camping ground where Lee's step-father had taught him how to fish (and if Lee had known it would have made him cry about his lost family that much he would have avoided the place altogether) A clearing in a town near the Weasley's house. An abandoned church. A cold moor.

"Well, we're definitely brushing up on our Apparating skills." Fred said. He plucked a daisy from just outside the tent and began slowly transforming it until it could laugh and stick its tongue out and made it take root in the middle of the tent.

"Yeah, I only splinched twice." This from George across the room, who was working out how to send a patronus as a message. His own patronus, a great, affable bloodhound, lit up the tent and cheered everyone's mood. "You know, I think I've got this whole message thing down, but I don't know what to say."

"You could say that Bill or Lupin or whoever should listen to the radio tonight." Lee smiled over the top of the large radio, "I'm in."

"No way!" Fred laughed, abandoning his daisy to pump his fist in the air, "That's great!"

"What are you going to call it?" Asked George, "Something old -"

"Like…Dumbledore's Army -"

"Or new -"

"Like…Jordan's Army?" Fred smirked at Lee, who rolled his eyes.

"I was thinking more straightforward." Lee said, "Potter Watch. I think that gets the point out quite nicely."

"Oh." Fred said, smiling, "I get it, we're after _that kid_ again."

"Come off it," Lee said, "like you haven't been hoping we run into those guys every time we Apparate."

George grinned, "That's for 'Mioine, mate, not the boys. Fred has a terrible crush on her."

Lee actually did laugh at that, not because Hermione was unlikable or ugly (she's actually grown to be something of a hottie to her male classmates) but because Fred was so smitten with Angelina Johnson it was rather pathetic. "Yeah, okay."

"So, Potter Watch." George said, writing out the message on a piece of parchment, "What time?"

"I dunno. Nine?"

"Wait." Fred said before George could give the message to the gamboling hound, "This is really secret information, you know? Everything the Order's ever been able to find out all at once. And it's really great that Kingsley and Lupin and Bill trusted us with all of it, you know? If it's on the air, couldn't it be heard by anyone? And then they'd know all out plans and we could get everyone we've ever known killed."

Lee hadn't actually thought that far in the future. He'd been more focused on finding airspace. Now the whole plan seemed kind of moot.

"Wait, Fred, remember that product we started last year? The Fat Lady?"

"How'll she help?" Fred asked, confused. They'd sold miniature Fat Ladies, mostly to little kids who didn't want their older siblings to get into their room. You needed a password to get past the portrait, just like the Fat Lady who guarded the Griffindor Common Room at Hogwarts.

"We could put the same spell on the station, make sure you could only hear it with a password."

Lee wanted to agree with that, but he had to think like he was in charge of a radio station, "That would limit the audience. Only people who know the right password and the right time would be able to hear."

"What can we do? Word gets around, and htis information is too dangerous to just have floating around. We'll make the password different every time, of course, but we'll make it so that the right people will be able to guess them. Like…I don't know, Dumbledore or Order of the Pheonix or something."

"Yeah…" George said, "Yeah, exactly! We just need to think of a password for today." The twins looked expectantly at Lee, who sighed, running a hand over his face.

"I dunno…make it Mad-Eye. It's harder to guess than Harry."

They spent the rest of the day getting organized. Lee didn't want to look like he didn't know what he was doing his first day on air and made so many notecards that Fred and George started laughing. He already knew how to speak so others would listen – the key was confidence. To pretend that he knew what he was talking about, even if he was only going on rumors.

"And stay upbeat." George reminded him for the fourth time. "The people listening are probably in even worse situations than we are."

"Remember…" Lee pointed at the twins seriously, "Not one word," The twins made faces of distaste, unwilling to let their friend get into hot water without them, "And be ready to move, because as soon as this is over we're out of here."

"Yeah." George said, looking glumly at his body as if the Trace was somehow physical, visible. "No chance that Dawlish is dead, huh?'

"No idea, but we're not going to take that risk." It would be interesting to know how the Death Eaters had managed to affix a Trace to wizards who were of age. Figuring out their secret would give them an advantage, espeically if they could turn the Trace around and use it as a weapon against their enemy.

Fred was asleep by the time nine o'clock rolled around. He'd been sleeping more often since his encounter with the Cruciatus Curse which had taken so much out of him. And though George and Lee both protested, Fred had begun to take the night watch and got into the habbit of not waking up the next person. "I can't sleep at night anyway, might as well make myself useful."

"I don't have the heart to wake him." George said, staring at his twin with an open compassion and tenderness that would surely never be on his face while the other was awake, "But you best start. I'll make sure everything's ready so we can get the hell out of Dodge at the end of this."

Lee examined his watch carefully – Mrs. Weasley had been right when she said every young wizard received a watch when they came of age – and waited until it hit nine exactly before clearing his voice and beginning.

**The next chapter is more interesting, promise. **

**Anyway, please review.**


	6. Life Isn't Fair

_And that's where she put the book down. And looked at me. And said it: "Life isn't fair, Bill. We tell that it is, but it's a terrible thing to do. It's not only a lie, it's a cruel lie. Life is not fair, and it never has been, and it never will be. **The Princess Bride**_

They didn't clear out quick enough. They'd have to get better at that.

No sooner had Lee finished the last sentence of his broadcast, a heartfelt plea for muggle borns to run, for families opposing the new regime to continue in hiding, and for just about everyone else to head for the hills, because things were going to get worse, than there was the unmistakable _pop_ of someone Apparating.

And then another, another, another. "C'mon!" Lee grabbed Fred, still bleary with sleep, under his arm and went to grab George's arm. The charms he'd put around the tent would repel muggles, he was sure, he just wasn't positive about wizards, and he didn't know how long it would take for them to dismantle the defensive spells.

George was using his wand to seemingly siphon the tent and everything in it back into the duffel bag just as Lee started to turn on the spot.

"_Incarcarus!"_ And Lee was suddenly bound by ropes at the same instant that "_Levicorpus" _was shouted and Fred and George were lifted off the ground, out of reach. A single cry of _"expeliarmus_" and all three had lost their wands, which were pocketed by Dolohov, who stood between Fenir Greyback and Dawlish, the nervous-looking man who had managed to cast a Trace on the twins.

The three Death Eaters looked were grinning in a way that made Lee's stomach crumple in on itself. "Quite a haul here," Dolohov's voice caressed the words softly, "A Mudblood and a pair of twins."

"They were spreading propaganda, and these two are blood traitors." Dawlish added, and Lee thanked whatever God was out there that this was the moment the twins decided to stay quiet.

"They're not identical." Greyback pointed out, one long finger gesturing at George. Hanging upside-down as he was, it was easy to see that his ear was missing. "We should fix that before we deliver these. Don't want to hand over any defective products."

The grin that crept up Dolohov's face made Lee's blood run cold, "No reason why we shouldn't have a little fun." The tent was mostly packed up, but there were still some parts that had been left out when George's spell was abruptly cut off by the rude arrival of the uninvited guests. Lee felt a hot flash of fear and then anger as Dolohov picked up a knife, flipping it expertly from hand to hand while he advanced on Fred.

"Hey!" George called, his face flushed with blood after being held upside-down. "Get away from him!" Fred himself was twisting frantically, but he couldn't escape the bonds of magic, and the knife was getting closer.

"'S only identical twins," Dawlish kept saying, "Only identical twins." And, because he was getting tired of George's shouting, he let out a _Crucio_, almost lazily, that hit the red-head on the chest.

Of course, after that, the clearing was filled with screams. Lee had never heard either of the twins scream like that in his life, and found himself working even harder against the ropes, trying to remember that one class, sixth year with McGonagall. He had been one of only four people too young to take the Appparation test and instead had a period of NEWT Transfiguration where the professor taught them the basics of wandless magic.

In theory, no wizard needed a wand, they merely amplified magical powers. Child wizards especially could perform magic without touching wands. They weren't strictly necessary…

But even though he knew that he could possibly save himself and his friends, it was hard to concentrate (so hard to concentrate) when George was screaming like that. _Just a minute, George, let me think_.

And then Fred joined it, and his ear was severed and lying on the floor, and the Death Eaters were advancing on Lee, and it was now or never.

He wasn't thinking in terms of spells. If pressed, at that moment he couldn't have recalled _relashio_ for a million galleons. Instead, he focused on the feeling of having his hands free…of being able to grab Fred, who had blood running down his front and the side of his head, and George, whose screams were hoarser now, and that was not necessarily a good thing, and get out of there.

And he was thinking about hurting these men, these monsters, as much as he possibly could.

He'd seen this happen exactly once. Once when he was thirteen and sitting in on Quidditch practice with the Gryffindors. George had hit a bludger particularly hard at Harry and he'd become dazed, disoriented. Though Wood was yelling from across the pitch that Harry'd better keep his eye on the balls, Fred flew over to the then-eleven-year-old, to see if he was alright. As soon as he'd put a hand on Harry's arm, he was forced backward, nearly toppling out of the air himself, shaking his hand as if he'd been burned.

Only Harry, the twins, and Lee, sitting on the sidelines, had noticed this blatant magic. Harry had apologized profusely, embarrassed, and Fred, in typical Weasley fashion, had shrugged, smiled, and tousled Harry's hair affectionately, though more wary than he had been just moments before. Lee walked away from the small experience thinking that Harry was powerful, and they mustn't ever forget that.

He'd also thought that Harry was able to do that without a wand, because he was startled, because he needed to.

And Lee needed this.

Suddenly, the ropes were gone, just gone, and Lee leapt forward, taking Dawlish by surprise and hitting him square in the nose with the 'old one-two' that his step-father had taught him years ago. He snagged his wand and the twins' wands from what was left of the side table and stunned Dolohov before he could do any more damage.

It was just Lee and Greyback now. The twins hung limply in midair, both unconscious. Greyback sank into a sort of half-crouch and drew back his lips in what was undoubtedly a snarl. Lee didn't think about lessons, about the countless spells he'd learned over the years. He only knew that he was mad. So, so mad.

These people had been there the night his parents and brother were killed. They were accessories to their murders. At least Dawlish, and probably all of them, had raided the twins' shop in the first place, and now they were hunting them because Lee was an unconfirmed Mudblood and the twins were twins.

He would have to thank Harry one day, when all of this was over, because the only thing he could think through all that rage was Harry's voice during the DA lessons, saying over and over that the only spell that had ever really and truly helped him was a simple one, one that even a Firstie couldn't mess up.

"_Expeliarmus_!" Greyback didn't have a wand, didn't have a weapon of any kind, but there was so much venom, so much hostility behind the word that the werewolf flew up off his feet and backward into the night, yowling the whole way.

Lee didn't waste any time after that. He managed to stay sane enough to magic what was left of their belongings into the ragged duffel before grabbing hold of Fred and George's shoulders and spinning, thinking that they could go anywhere, anywhere but here.

By the time they landed in the clearing (non-descript. Lee couldn't tell exactly where they were), Lee's front was soaked with blood. "Oh, Fred." And George was lying on the ground, twitching as if he were still under the spell. But Fred was now missing an ear, and losing blood fast.

Lee propped George up on his side, lingering over him for a second as he gagged, retched, then went still. He wanted to stay next to him, to make sure he woke up, because even though it had only been two minutes, maybe three, under the Cruciatrus Curse it had probably felt closer to an hour.

But Fred was bleeding out on the ground. Lee pressed his sleeve against the hollow gap in his friend's head, watching as a stain bloomed out across the fabric. He looked around hopelessly, spotted his wand three paces away, lying the grass next to the duffel, and snagged it. "_Episky_," He tried helplessly, not quite knowing what else to try. The matted, almost dry blood vanished, but the flow didn't stem at all.

"_Ferula_," Lee cried, wishing he'd paid more attention during those lessons on housekeeping magic. The bandages wrapped themselves tight around Fred's head, maybe too tight, for they caused him to moan dully.

"Sorry, Fred." Lee murmured, knowing that the pain would only intensify as the wound healed, but hopefully with the bandage it _would_ begin to heal. "I shouldn't have done that stupid radio program." He lay flush against the ground, panting heavily under the stars. "_Lumos_," He whispered, an afterthought, watching as the clearing sprung to life.

He lay there for a while. Of the three, he was the least harmed, barely bruised from where the ropes bit into his wrists, but he was _tired_, tired of running every night, of being persecuted for his birth, for telling the truth, for knowing Harry.

He couldn't say long he stayed there on his back, knowing he should check on George, who'd stopped retching and was now eerily quiet, on Fred, whose white bandage stood out stark against his head, a dark spot covered by blood. He knew he should help, but just couldn't possibly bring himself to move that couple of feet.

Finally, a sound broke the silence, brought Lee back to himself. "Wasn't stupid." It was George, his voice husky with pain and tears, "The radio program wasn't stupid."

"Shut up, George." Lee said quietly, rolling over onto his stomach.

"It wasn't." George insisted, though he didn't move. "Maybe we should have gotten out earlier, we'll do better next time, but it's not stupid to tell the truth."

"Nearly got you two killed."

The silence brooded on that for a while, "How's Fred?"

"He's hurt." Lee didn't elaborate. He didn't need George feeling guilty, knowing that it was his own disfigurement that caused his twin such pain. "I don't know how to fix it."

"It'll be okay." George murmured into the wind, words that Lee had often heard while they were making the pranks in school, when they were sent down to detention, during the reign of Umbridge, when they read the Quibbler after leaving school, saw all their friends dead, dying… "It'll be okay."

And they just had to believe that, somehow, it would.

**please review.**


	7. Know And Understand

_"That which he does not value, Voldemort takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children's tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence he knows and understands nothing. Nothing." **Dumbledore**_

"One day you'll have to tell us how you got out of there." George said. He was re-bandaging Fred's wound by hand, cleaning it off with a wet rag.

Lee was rummaging through their supplies, trying to find something for breakfast. He didn't know if the twins would believe him, he didn't know if anyone would believe him. Wandless magic usually didn't exist once a wizard got their wand, with the notable exception of Harry.

"One day." Lee agreed vaguely, hoping that one day wouldn't come any time soon, because he still couldn't quite explain what had happened to himself, let alone an audience

Fred's voice was tight with pain that made both Lee and George look at him, concerned, "There's no way to grow it back, is there?"

Lee sighed, ran a hand through his hair. The worst part was that there _were_ ways to grow the ear back, charms, potions, but the problem was Lee didn't know any off the top of his head and they couldn't risk walking into St. Mongo's and getting thrown in jail. "I'm sorry, Fred."

"Nah." Fred jerked away when George tried to bandage the wound again, "Not being identical didn't sit right with me, anyway." He brought a hand up to his wound, even though he knew touching it would hurt, and probed the edges. Unlike George's cut, it didn't sport clean sides and was tattered, ripped, torn where the blunt edge of the knife did more hacking than cutting. "At least it'll close up quick."

George stared at his brother, then ruffled his hair affectionately, gently, in a way that made Fred smack his hand away, stick out his tongue. "C'mon, we have work to do."

"Yeah." Fred finally allowed George to bandage his head, "Lee, do you know if anyone actually heard that radio show? Seems like it was an awful lot of trouble."

In fact, Lee had no idea if anyone was listening to his show. "Wish we could go into a city, find some Wizards."

"No way of knowing they're on our side."

"Guess you're right." Lee stared at the radio, his head tilted slightly, "Still, it's kind of lonely being on the run."

"Hey!" Fred said, eyebrows raised, "No one could ever be lonely -"

"With us around!"

And Lee had to smile, because even though he was road-weary, he was in nowhere near the amount of pain either of the twins were. "Hey, George, let me take over. You should go lie down."

George glanced at Fred, as if expecting his brother to protest, but the other Weasley unexpectedly gripped Geoge's hand. "Yeah, Georgie, you look like you've been through the wringer. Lee'll play nursemaid for a while." Fred glanced at Lee, managed a smile without showing the pain he was in, "Though I have to admit, I'd prefer Angelina."

"So would I, Holiness." Lee said, taking the blood-soaked cloth from George, who was nearly stumbling with fatigue, "So would I."

The messages began coming late in the evening, from Bill, now home-bound with the _fidelius _charm, from the braver friends they'd acquired over the years, not the least of which being Angelina Johnson, her patronus, a raven, swooping in and speaking in her voice, bubbly with excitement and heavy with cautions. Ending with, "I hope you're all right…I'll tell everyone to listen." A pause, heavier in the twilight of the moor, then, "Hide well."

"Anglina…" Fred breathed, his face turning to a picture of worry as he fingered the spot his ear used to be.

"Don't worry." George murmured, reading his twin's mind instantly, "That one was never much for appearances."

"Yeah, she went with you ungrateful sod, didn't she?" Said Lee, who'd nursed a crush on the beautiful Chaser for years before the twins had started after her.

"Oy, that was low!" Said Fred, holding his chest in mock distress, "I don't see anyone sending love letters to either of you!"

George let out a loud laugh, "You think that was a _love letter_?"

"It was!"

"Was not!"

Lee had a theory that the twins were stuck in a time warp, like Peter Pan. He wondered, vaguely, how much money he'd get for them at the nearest university as he opened the next letter, this from a winded, shabby grey owl.

_Lee,_

_I know you are already taking precautions, but with your brave news advent you have to be more vigilant than ever. Move at least once a day, more often if you are going to be on the air. Mad-Eye would suggest to split up, but I have learned not to underestimate Fred and George. I advise the exact opposite: stay together, and keep each other safe._

_Needless to say, be on the lookout for Death Eaters and Snatchers - you are still young enough to look school-aged. Try to keep on top of the news – the Quibbler, of course, would be a better bet than the Prophet, but no one has seen a new copy in ages. And make sure the twins keep their heads, I made an old promise to Molly to look out for them._

_The war is approaching, and there is little news of Harry. If you should encounter him on your travels, implore him to wrap up whatever quest Dumbledore sent him on. Ready or not, we need Harry as a leader._

_Keep broadcasting. Somebody needs to get the right words out there._

_Remus J. Lupin_

It was probably a good idea to keep on the move. "Can you guys Apparate?" Lee asked, folding the letter into a square to put in his cloak pocket. "Fred? You still bleeding?"

He was, from his ear, and his face was frightfully pale. The long, concerned looks George was flashing his brother were not lost on Lee, who felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of moving the red head, but it had to be done. "I can Apparate, Lee, I just don't know if I can stand up."

"Whiner." George said fondly, already beginning to pack up the medical supplies, his own one-eared body wobbly from far too much abuse by the Cruciartus curse.

"So," Said Fred from the ground, "Just so I can figure out what we're doing, you're planning on broadcasts every week?"

"About that, yeah, as long as I keep getting new information." Lee summoned the tent and had it fold itself neatly into the bag.

"So we can count on being attacked every week." It was one of the only times in Lee's memory that Fred looked morose and perhaps the slightest bit bitter, but the expression was gone in an instant, replaced by the much-loved quirk of a smile, "Harry'll be proud. Our defense skills will definitely be up to snuff."

"Maybe next time they'll only take a finger." George muttered, grabbing the upper part of Fred's arm and holding Lee's hand just a little too tight. The twins were scared. Lee was, too. The Ministry was getting violent and erratic. Death came with chaos.

But then George turned on the spot, and the world changed all over again.

It was a weary month. Bitterly cold, the winter forced the three to share the tent constantly, leading to more than a few arguments with wands left pointing at each other. The twins, never ones for being cooped up, were off the walls with cabin fever, creating new products weekly, scorching different portions of the tent and once, memorably, catching Lee's shirt on fire.

"You should know better than to wear clothes around explosives, Lee." Said Fred, unwilling to admit his mistake.

"You've only been working on pranks for eight years." George added, dousing the fire with a stream of water from his wand. Both twins were stripped from the waist up, despite the temperature hovering somewhere in the twenties.

"It's cold." Lee grouched truthfully. "And I didn't expect to be rained on by pieces of toy shrapnel." He'd only caught on fire because he refused to move, despite finely honed reflexes born of years being around Fred and George. Instead, he'd bent over his radio, unnaturally fearful of it being hurt by the ashes.

Nowhere, it seemed, was safe, and not just in terms of the twins and their insistence on creating dubious products in a confined space. They were still being chased down nightly, sometimes twice a night, always either barely escaping or caught in a duel with a seemingly endless array of Death Eaters.

"We have to kill Dawlish." Fred had said one night, angry and in pain from a burn on his side. "I mean it, there's no other way to stop this."

"We don't kill people, Fred. I don't even know how." Lee stuffed his shirt into his mouth so he wouldn't scream or bite his tongue when George popped his shoulder back into place.

"_Avada Kadavra_." Fred said, not bothering to lower his own voice. "And there's muggle weapons that can do it: guns and knives and poison. But until he dies George and I will have the Trace."

Lee groaned in pain and extracted the shirt, rolling down the sleeve of his cloak before he could look at his arm. He'd had to venture into a Wizarding town two weeks ago to get a spell book, because the three were breaking so many bones _ferula_ just wasn't enough to keep them mobile. Now he looked at George, who had been least hurt by this particular raid, "I think it's broken, too."

George nodded uncertainly. He and Fred were still wary of the healing spell, probably remembering Lockheart every time they tried to perform it. "'S what you get from falling into a gorge."

"Don't exaggerate, it wasn't a gorge."

"Was too."

"It was barely a steep slope."

"Steep enough that he would have died."

"Still. It wasn't a gorge."

Lee was too used to this back-and-forth banter to even realize it through his haze of pain. In his opinion, though, it had been a gorge. A deep canyon that he'd fallen into after an unexpected _stupify_ hit him in the chest.

He'd been falling, and immobile, and death seemed unavoidable. The ground rushed up at a staggering pace and Lee wished he could close his eyes, wished he could move his wand, held in a death grip in his hand. _Stop_, he thought, hoping for another bout of unexpected magic, like when they'd been attacked by Greyback after Lee's first broadcast. But there wasn't enough time, not nearly enough. Not even enough to pray.

And then, suddenly, there was a pair of hands on his forearms, long, thin fingers that he'd gotten used to feeling after two months of Apparating. The twins had dived after him, directed their bodies like bullets so they could get that necessary grip on his arm before they Apparated.

Luckily, it was George who'd picked their location. George, who could plan ahead, who wasn't quite as impetuous as his twin, thought of something soft to slow their descent. _Water_. And then they were in a not-quite-frozen pond in a familiar clearing.

It had taken a few spells to get warm again, though Lee hadn't stopped shaking yet, and they'd been sitting on the bank an hour. _Thank you_ didn't seem like enough, not now. Fred and George could have just Apparated out of the battle, could have mourned Lee in privet. Instead, they risked both their lives by jumping off a cliff in a wild hope that they'd be able to somehow save Lee.

How do you repay someone for that? And now that Lee wanted to say something, anything, the words wouldn't come out. _Hey guys, thanks for taking a dive off a cliff for me_. The twins would laugh. They'd laugh anyway. They found Lee endlessly amusing.

"Think we should put a blanket on him?"

"I don't think he's cold, Fred. Lay down."

"Still, he's been through an awful lot of trauma today."

"He's fine. Aren't you fine, Lee?" No one else would have noticed the slight hitch in George's voice, the little tremble at the end of the sentence. Perhaps the twins were more shaken up about the event than they let on.

"I'm fine."

"'Cept for the broken arm."

"Yeah, that was a bugger to fix. Don't go breaking yourself, Lee, you're the best medic we've got."

"Shut up, I think he's trying to say something."

"You shut up. I'm getting a blanket." Surprisingly, the blanket George draped over him did make him feel better, though the minute shakes didn't leave.

"Thanks guys." One look at Fred and George and he wanted to groan, they were grinning so broadly.

"No, thank _you_ mate, we haven't jumped off a cliff since we were tykes."

"I think you pushed me that time."

"Did not!"

Lee pulled the blanket tighter around him, "You didn't have to."

That stopped the two right in their tracks and they stared incredulously at Lee. "Yeah, we did mate." The words were so sincere, said so earnestly, that Lee could only shrug and accept them at face value, because there was no elaboration.

Still, even though he was shaking well into the night, even though his arm still tingled slightly, even though Fred was healing from yet more wounds, he counted himself lucky. Blessed. Because Fred and George continued to laugh, to talk, to tell jokes, as if they hadn't just saved his life. As if it were no big deal. As if they would do it again in a heartbeat.

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	8. Safe Into His Own

_May he be brave, and have the strong head to think with, and the strong heart to love with, and the strong hands to work with and the strong feet to travel with and always come home safe to his own. **Irish Blessing**_

They all came down with some version of the flu or another, living as they did in a tent during the long, cold months. Lee would cringe at his voice as it came in over the air, scratchy and thick, with frequent pauses as he tried to get his unresponsive lungs to expand just a little bit faster.

Letters kept pouring in. Kingsley and Lupin were their frequent correspondents, with letters at least once and sometimes as much as three times a day, keeping the trio up-to-date on the ever-changing political climate. They were often "guests" on Lee's show, communicating via Fred and George's newest device.

The twins never stopped tinkering with their products. Lee had known since they were Firsties that the two couldn't sit still without chemicals in their hands. Give them a page of equations and they would remain spread-eagled on the floor for an entire afternoon, quiet, but without something to focus on they were off the walls.

That winter they were working on a newer version of Extendable Ears based off of a muggle product called a telephone. "They use electro-icity to talk to each other in, like, different countries. We can make something like that—"

"Using magic, obviously—"

"And we'll be able to talk to Kingsley and Lupin, maybe even get them on air—."

"Which is so dangerous for them, but they're already outcasts."

Lee let them work, amazed, as always, with their ability to create spells on the spot. George was bent over their only box of Extendable Ears, taking the products apart for parts. Fred scratched out spell after spell, murmuring the words under his breath and manipulating a scrap piece of plastic to talk to him as a sounding board.

Of course, Lee knew that they had an ulterior motive for creating this newest trick. Fred and George had been trying to contact their family and were entirely unsuccessful – apparently, the Patronus messengers couldn't get past the _fidelus_ charm. But Kingsley had promised to smuggle the telephone-thing to the rest of Weasleys once it was perfected.

So they were hard at work, coughing periodically, both possessing apparently the worst immune systems in history. Lee had spent his morning creating a Pepper-Up potion from his old copy of _Advanced Potion Making_, because the sound of Fred and George's hacking coughs always made him think that they were dying.

"Do you think Lupin will be able to be on the show?" Lee asked, going over the pages of notes Kingsley had sent him. Kingsley had enough loyal contacts in the Ministry to keep his information mostly up-to-date. Lee's job was to get it organized so that he could present in the information to the general public in a way that was accessible and not too dreary.

Luckily, the twins often chimed in during his show, because keeping quiet and still for a half-hour was beyond their abilities, and their comments were usually well-timed stress relievers and, occasionally, interesting opinions. At least with Fred and George, the show never lagged or became too drawn-out. Everything about the twins' personality was loud and fast, from their many and varied products to their quick humor.

In fact, their sense of humor was probably the only thing keeping them alive at this point. They were hunted down every day, and attacked or nearly-attacked week after week was tiring, and with other companions Lee could imagine that tempers would flare. The twins, like all the Weasleys, had the famous red-headed temper, but it was like a quick summer rain: a short burst of energy followed immediately by good humor.

"Lupin?" George looked up, poking Fred with his quill. "He finds a way to write, mostly, I think he'll find a way to get on the show."

Fred looked up, poking George back, and frowned slightly at Lee. "Mate, you know how important this show is, right?"

In truth, Lee hadn't thought it was that important at the beginning. He'd started trying to get on the air over the summer, after Dumbledore's death. It was his personal way to mourning the headmaster, who had told Lee more than once that he should have his own radio program. There was enough funny stuff going on the Ministry to easily make a show. But it had started as something to do over the long summer months.

"I think…I think we all need this program. I think that people have a right to know what the Ministry isn't telling them." Lee really did believe that, more than anything else, everyone had a right to information, and freedom of speech seemed to be a right that had fallen by the wayside recently. "And I'm sorry that it's become so dangerous for you guys."

"Aw, stop Lee, you're embarrassing us." Fred laughed, eyes dancing.

"Yeah, not like we had anything better to do," George said, a hint of a sigh in his voice, "The Ministry's scared all the brave ones away from Diagon Alley, anyways."

"You saved us from boredom, mate."

"And you know we don't do very well with boredom."

"Really?" Lee asked, staring pointedly at the box of Extendable Ears open at the twins' feet. Both grinned, not at all embarrassed. Yes, he knew the twins. With his family dead and gone, they were the closest thing to brothers he had.

The three fit in well together. Once Ron, when he was eleven or twelve and thinking that the twins were a right pain in the arse, had asked Lee why he willingly put up with their antics day after day. Lee was frequently the first person products were tested on, usually in the middle of the night after the twins had had what they liked to call a 'brain blast'.

And though Fred and George were arguably the most popular pair in the school, and could sit down and have long conversations with anybody, they had few close friends. Except for Lee. Lee was intrigued enough by their intelligence and just patient enough to take their product obsession in stride. They were a spectrum, from Fred, who was wild and impetuous and daring, to George, who was just a little milder than his twin, just a little more willing to reason things out, to Lee, who was the much-needed voice of reason.

So on the day Ron asked him why he put up with the twins, he'd said that it was because they were his brothers, too. They were stuck by a bond that had started on the Hogwarts Express, not unlike Ron and his own friendship with Harry.

And they stuck by each other for their seven (well, six and half, for the twins) years of Hogwarts. Continuing together was obvious: Fred and George had the brains and sheer recklessness to make the products, Lee was a good front man, suave, bursting with words, and usually willing to be a guinea pig.

George looked up at the sky, dark and foreboding, with storm clouds even now in late February (or was it early March? The days seemed to have slipped away from them). Snow was on its way. "Should we move out now? Miss the storm?"

They would never avoid the storm entirely. Despite their best charms – a few of which Fred and George had made up over the course of the winter – snow still seeped in through the ceiling of the tent, dripped onto the sleeping men, chilled them to the bone, gave them those awful colds they hadn't been able to shake all season.

But moving out was important. They'd been avoiding most of the Death Eaters simply by Apparating every six to eight hours, setting up in a different location and going back to their business. "Want to eat first?"

Lee was inconspicuous enough to stroll into muggle groceries and replenish some of their dwindling supplies, and as a result their cupboards had remained full all winter. For Fred and George, such excursions were impossible: even in muggle groceries there were WANTED posters up, and Lee found himself wondering if the muggles knew just how many of those criminals were wizards.

"After." Fred said, his hand already reaching for his wand to pack up the tent. "Moving always makes me hungry, anyway."

But despite their regular meals, the three were changing, looking just as drawn and haggard as Bill or Lupin on their worst days. Lee knew that, especially at the beginning of the winter, he had been prone to long spells of not eating. The sight and smell of food always, always, reminded him of his mother, which, especially towards the beginning of their hiding, would make him want to cry.

He knew that Fred and George were more worried about their family than they let on. Between Bill being part werewolf and Charlie being half a world away in Romania, not to mention Ron, God-knows-where with Undesirable Number One…

Yes, they'd been eating less. They had little to hope for, as the world around them turned bleak, heavy with ridiculous rules and impossible regulations. Lee and Fred and George knew better than anyone of the state of the Ministry, knew that the odds of things getting back to normal by the end of the year, two years, was nearly impossible.

Lee was beginning to think that nothing would ever be normal again, not for most of the country. So many wizards had been captured, killed, _Imperiused_, imprisoned, or driven out of the country. The only signs of wizarding life the three had had in the past five months were the letters they received after broadcasts, and even those were dwindling in number.

George was on his feet, siphoning the tent and the objects within it into the worn duffel. Fred got to his knees, looking around blearily, and Lee took his hand. He was afraid something was wrong with Fred, between the three or four _crucio_'s he'd suffered in the past months and the ragged, sick looking tear where his ear used to be. He squeezed his friend's hand extra hard, winged a prayer up to the God his mother had always believed in, praying for strength to keep doing this, keep up this strange, pseudo-life where they always seemed to be stuck somewhere in the middle.

George loped over, goose bumps already popping up over his skin. The hand that grabbed Lee's was as cold as ice. "We're running out of places to hide."

"I know." Lee said, hoisting the duffel over his shoulder.

"We can't keep this up much longer." Fred said, his voice oddly strained. Lee couldn't bring himself to answer because he knew it was true.

When they re-appeared, this time in the middle of a strange forest, they found themselves on the wrong end of a group of wands.

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	9. Good People

_ "The world isn't split into good people and death eaters." **JK Rowling.**_

"Fred?" Ron said, at the same time as everyone started greeting each other.

"George?"

"Ron?"

"Harry?"

They couldn't believe it. The two parties discarded wands and bags and embraced fondly. Lee couldn't help but notice that, if he and the twins hadn't had much of an appetite these last months, the Golden Trio must have been starving. Hermione felt particularly breakable.

The twins decided to focus on something different, and decidedly more upbeat, as was their usual tactic. "Geeze Ronnikins, do you ever cut your hair?"

"We had Lee do ours -"

"And we think it looks rather dashing -"

"But here you are, not taking advantage of a woman's touch? Shame on you!"

Ron's hands flew up to his hair, which was halfway to his shoulders, though not nearly as shaggy as Harry's, which looked like a frightened black cat had come to rest on his head. "Well it's not like we get out much." He protested feebly, "There's no reason to keep it proper, is there?"

Fred rolled his eyes, "Not if you don't want to impress anyone there isn't -"

"But we know that isn't the case here, little bro." The wink in Hermione's direction was more than enough to make the teenage girl flush scarlet.

Lee put out a hand to Harry, enveloping the teen in a hug when he went to shake it. "Let's make this an old-fashioned camp out. There's so much to talk about."

The exclamations Harry, Ron, and Hermione made over the sight of food made Lee's heart clench, and he pulled out all the stops to make sure they would feast like kings. "Do you guys have enough food?" He asked, pulling open another can of mushrooms.

Harry looked hesitantly between the three older men, then nodded, expression tight and grim. Hermione on the other hand shook her head emphatically. "No we don't. We can't risk even walking into muggle villages anymore. We didn't pack any food and what we can't find in the forests we steal."

"'Mione." Ron murmured, flushing with embarrassment.

"Take ours." George said immediately, summoning everything out of the duffel until they were surrounded by cans and boxes of food. "Take it all – Lee can still go by stores without being recognized and Bill was paranoid - he emptied his whole kitchen before we left."

"No." Both boys said, embarrassed. Hermione was past pride and put her arms around first George's, then Fred's necks.

When a small exclamation of pain, mostly swallowed, emanated from Fred, she withdrew and looked at him, concerned, then gasped in realization. "Your ear!"

Now Harry and Ron took closer looks at Fred's head, which he tried to turn before they could catch a glimpse of his mutilated ear. Ron swore. Harry turned pale, than fiery with rage, "Who did it?"

"Death Eaters. They've been after us for a while – George and I have Traces that we can't shake. The first time they caught us they were going to haul us in, 'cept they noticed George was down an ear and I wasn't."

"It was pretty nasty." George said fervently, "At least Snape was decent enough to do mine with _sectumsempra_. They hacked Fred's off."

"And we didn't have enough Dittany, not after fleeing Shell Cottage." Lee put in, only because he hoped that Hermione knew more about medicinal magic than he. "I'm afraid it got infected and Fred's too stubborn to admit it."

And Fred couldn't deny that. Couldn't, because since the wound he'd had fevers so high he would push off the blankets and step out into the frigid winter and hope for respite from the inferno. He nodded, submitting to Hermione's gentle touch with a few small jokes and a look of relief.

As Hermione slowly rubbed a salve over the infected hole, Harry turned to Lee, "That radio show…it's brilliant."

"We listen to it every week." Ron added, "It's about the only thing there is to talk about out here."

"How'd you get Kingsley and Lupin on the show?" Hermione asked. "We heard they were in hiding."

"New ears." George said, smiling when he realized the pun in that statement. "According to Lee they work something like a telephone."

"That's brilliant." Hermione beamed while Harry gave Ron a refresher in what a telephone was.

"Yeah." Fred touched Ron's shoulder, "We got through to mum. She was in a right state when she heard from us. Apparently our big brother, in his infinite wisdom, decided to spread the nasty rumor that we were dead."

"He told me that." Ron murmured, "Seemed to think the less people who knew about you the better, but then we stumbled over the radio show and the secret kind of came out."

Lee mentally berated himself for not helping the rumor that the twins were dead. It wouldn't stop those dedicated few Death Eaters from having a go, but at least it might have deterred other attackers.

"Where'd you meet Bill?" Lee asked as soon as he processed Ron's statement. "He's not on the run, too, is he?"

"No," For some reason, Ron looked embarrassed. "No, your tip wasn't for nothing, Lee, he managed to save Lupin and Tonks and a couple of his goblin friends with your heads-up, and then he holed up good. He and Fleur can't really get out much, but she's pregnant, anyway. Did you know Veela's get prettier when they're pregnant?"

"Really?" Lee would like to see that, although his picture of Fleur always included her strong, curse-breaker husband. "But you managed to get a message to Bill? Going into the inventing business, too?"

"No," again, the embarrassment, and Harry patted his friend's arm before wandering over to make sure George kept some of the food. "I…well, I kind of…walked out on Harry a couple months ago. I heard something about the twins…about them being killed…and I kind of snapped. Yelled, too, then stormed out."

"What?" This wasn't Lee, but Fred and George in unison.

"One second, Hermione, I got to deal with my idiot brother."

It was funny to watch Fred and George bundle Ron out of the tent, Fred with his wound re-opened and dripping blood on the grass. Snippets of the tirade made it back to Lee, who suddenly felt very awkward in a tent with the very people he'd been talking about for months.

"Do you have any idea how important Harry is?" Fred's voice drifted in from the cold, and Harry turned red under his shag of hair.

"Not to mention we just might like him better than you -" Lee knew for a fact that George was exaggerating. Their constant attempts to contact their family just to see if they'd had word of Ron was tribute the fact.

"Especially after this stunt. Seriously, Ron -"

"We're _Weasleys_, we're supposed to be the sidekicks -"

"And the comic relief."

"You don't get to walk out on anybody."

"Not Harry and not -"

"Especially not Hermione!"

"He came back." Hermione murmured, half-listening, helping Harry separate the supplies. "And he saved Harry, too."

Lee nodded absent-mindedly, wondering vaguely if the twins were his sidekicks or vice versa. "Listen, Harry, in all seriousness…do you think you can do this?"

Fred and George continued their conversation with Ron, quieter, and Harry met Lee's gaze. "Promise this isn't going on the show?"

Lee smirked, "Cross my heart." It was a Gryffindor thing, meaning that the secret-teller had no chance in hell of his secret being kept. And secrets were always told anyway.

So Lee sat down while Harry and Hermione explained the concept of Hallows and Horcruxes. Somewhere along the way Ron came in, and mentioned that they'd destroyed the locket, the diary, the ring, but they still needed the snake, the cup, and something of Ravenclaw's.

Fred nudged George, who nudged Lee, who suddenly stood up, excited. "We used to crash Ravenclaw's Common Room all the time -" At this point he was used to being cut off by the twins, but he was a little put-out when they talked over him just then.

"It's way nicer than the Gryffindor Room -"

"Less supervision -"

"Plus, Lee had the biggest crush on this sixth year…"

"It's the diadem." Lee cut in, "That's the only thing that makes sense. The diadem of Ravenclaw was her most prized possession: it was said to contain some supplement for her wisdom, something to strengthen or add to it."

"It was totally important -"

"And we know where it is."

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